“Her fans are creepy,” Amo observed on their way into the emptied warehouse where the famed firedancer, Norgash, was about to perform. “And not just because of the masks.” Whereas Amo and Indirk wore the masks of the Sickle-Sough festival – Indirk’s fish skull and Amo’s newly-purchased rabbit skull – many of Norgash’s fans wore white robes and faceless, flat ivory masks that they never removed. These were imitations of Norgash’s own costume, the woman renowned for her mystique. Never had her face been glimpsed, it was said.
“There are a lot of people in here.” Indirk looked around at what must’ve been more than a hundred people already in a warehouse that could scarcely fit so many. She flinched at the sound of a rattling jar in a drunken hand and hissed, “I wish people would leave those outside!”
Amo hooked her elbow with an arm and pulled her through a gathering of fans who were speaking in high, excited voices. As they pushed past white robes and stepped into the hordes of Sickle-Sough revelers, Amo said, “Calm down. This isn’t half as much a crush as that Veiled Night party you threw a few years ago.”
“Maybe so, but-!” Indirk choked off her words, unsure what she was even going to say. A drunk woman stumbled into her and Indirk drove her away with a knee, sending her crashing into a few other people. But there were so many people in the crowd, nobody even noticed what Indirk had done, just confused at the movement. Amo was right; Indirk would normally love things like this. Indirk was much more the type to get drunk and throw herself into the crowd, joining the dizzy churn of bodies, maybe finding a willing partner to cling to.
Not tonight. Not now. Every touch felt like a grabbing hand, and she kept fighting back the rising instinct to hit someone. She lasted a good minute before she snapped, “Fuck it!” and pulled herself away from Amo, rapidly shouldering her way through the crowd like a train through a herd of goats. Eventually, she reached the front of the warehouse, where tables had been set up for people to stand around, and this formed a sort of tide-break in the crowd.
All of the tables had already been claimed, of course, but Indirk shouldered her way to one and a moment later she had it to herself. She didn’t even have to threaten anyone. They just took one look at her and left. Alone for the moment, Indirk put her bag on the table, leaned her face in her hands, and spat expletives into her palms. After a second, she remembered Avie in the bag, and snapped it open to check. Avie was fine, and immediately jumped out of the open bag to throw herself from the table like an escaped bird taking flight. Indirk caught the little thing in mid-air.
Amo arrived a few seconds later, putting a couple jars of honey mead on the table. “So, you seem kind of fucked up.”
Indirk didn’t respond except to groan as she shut Avie back up in the bag.
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
“When does the dance start?”
“I don’t know. Anytime now, I guess. We could’ve just stayed in and hung out tonight, you know?”
“I wanted to go to a party,” Indirk grumbled, as though it were the worst idea she’d ever had. “Trying to feel normal again. Why’s that so hard?”
“Well, I don’t know what’s got you so wrecked, but maybe what you’re feeling is normal. You’ve got to feel your feelings. You can’t just skip that step.” Amo pushed one of the jars toward Indirk. “Drink. It’s tasty.”
Indirk looked down into the yellow drink. At the sound of rattling nearby, she shocked straight, shaking the table, and Amo had to grab the drinks to keep them from spilling. Indirk cast about the room, looking at the hundred people. She hissed, “Those damn jars.” She didn’t see any just then. But she heard rattling above her, somewhere in the warehouse’s high ceiling. She was probably imagining that. The smell of fire seeped in from the outside. Lamps flicked red on the tables. Jars of sand rattled.
Shoulders tense, Indirk ground her teeth. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”
Amo shouldered into Indirk and put an arm around her side. “Hang onto me.”
“Uh?” All the sound and chaos around Indirk was suddenly less important. Amo was not usually a touchy person. The press of this body was unexpected. “What?”
Amo was more than a head shorter than Indirk, so when they put Indirk’s arm over their shoulder, it felt natural enough. Amo took off their mask so that its hard wooden edges weren’t pressing into Indirk’s neck. Then they pulled off Indirk’s mask, too. Amo leaned against Indirk. They were warm, smelling of the spices at the shops outside, their dark tuft of hair soft. “It’s okay. You don’t ever need to talk about what happened. Just hang onto me until you’re feeling better. You know I’ve got you.”
Indirk remained straight-backed, muttering thoughtlessly, “Yeah, I know, but I…” But what? Indirk didn’t know. She closed her eyes and breathed, trying to ignore the crowd around her, just feeling the press of Amo’s shoulder, the brush of their hair, the weight of their arm on her hip. With some effort, Indirk relaxed against Amo. She heard rattling above her, but she ignored it.
